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Brought a lump to my throat...

untallguy

Old-Salt
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
#1
... and seems apt:

A Soldier’s Christmas - It's Christmas Day, All Is Secure.

T'was the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one-bedroom house, made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney, with presents to give,
And to see just who, in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures, of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a Soldier, once I could see clearly.
The Soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor, in this one-bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in disorder,
Not how I pictured, a lone British Soldier.
Was this the hero, of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realised the families, that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these Soldiers, who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate, a bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year,
Because of the Soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder, how many alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
The very thought brought, a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees, and started to cry.
The Soldier awakened, and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my God, my country, my Corps."
The Soldier rolled over, and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both sat and shivered, from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave, on that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honour, so willing to fight.
Then the Soldier rolled over, with a voice, soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on, Santa. It's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
"Merry Christmas, my friend, and to all a good night."

Anon


Not my work at all but was passed to me by a chum.
 
#5
Sad poem! Sadly seem quite a few ex servicemen passing through the hospital recently, sad that these proud people who have done so much are left all alone!
 

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